


Meant To Be

by jmjwrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nygmobblepot, The Penguin - Freeform, The Riddler - Freeform, nygmobblepot reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:25:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmjwrites/pseuds/jmjwrites
Summary: Oswald and Ed are forced to work out through their emotions when the Court of Owls throws them in neighboring cages.





	Meant To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Taking place immediately following the reunion scene in 3x18…

The bars of his cage were cold beneath slender fingers. Oswald gripped the iron tighter, his knuckles aching. All the different ways he had imagined meeting Edward Nygma face to face one last time…he never could have predicted this. Oswald blinked, finally, lips beginning to quiver as words reached them at last.

“You killed me…” he said. It came out not as rage but as a whimper. Ed was still gaping at him like he’d seen a ghost, backed a safe distance away from the bars of his neighboring cage. At this break of the silence he swallowed, licked his lips nervously.

“But Oswald,” he whispered, and Oswald closed his eyes at the sound of his name leaving Ed’s lips, “You’re alive.”

“Yes, you’ve already mentioned that,” Oswald clenched his teeth, but the anger wasn’t really there.

“How?” Ed growled, desperately needing a logical explanation. He shook his head, realizing there was something else he needed even more desperately. Even locked up by the Court of Owls somehow his former best friend ended up by his side. It seemed there really was no Edward Nygma without the Penguin. No, not without the Penguin. Without Oswald.

Oswald did not answer him, closed his mouth and said nothing more. He stared at Ed for a long time, those wet, calculating eyes unblinking. He was just so…tired.

“Look what you did to me!” Oswald screeched, his resolve finally breaking. He fumbled with the zipper on his jumpsuit, finally working it down to his navel. He yanked one arm free, half his chest exposed, pointing angrily at the wound, “Don’t you think I’m damaged enough without another ugly scar?”

But the scar wasn’t what hurt and Ed knew it.

“Oswald,” he said quietly. Os trembled with an aching desire to either kiss or kill each time Ed said his name that way. He braced himself for the argument that he had deserved to be shot and left for dead.

Ed stepped closer, carefully laying his hands on the bars. Oswald watched him, resisting the urge to grab him by the collar and…well he hadn’t decided what he’d do yet. Resting his forehead against the cold iron he turned his dark eyes to Oswald. He licked his lips, glasses clinking against the bars, the only other sound apart from their nervous breathing. Oswald was so close he could feel Ed’s warm breath on his face; it almost comforted him. Maybe that’s why he didn’t jump back as Ed slowly reached through the bars. Oswald watched as Ed’s fingers grazed his stomach, lightly caressing the scar. Ed placed a hand over the permanent reminder of his betrayal, watching it rise and fall with Oswald’s slow breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered at last, bowing his head. Ed removed his hand, placing it on the bars, gripping them tight. His body trembled as he let out a heavy sigh, “I’m so sorry.”

Ed sank to his knees, fingers pressed to his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. Oswald knelt with him. He reached out, fingertips brushing back the stray hairs from Ed’s face. Oswald never could take a sad Ed.

“I want to hate you,” Oswald said quietly.

Ed looked at him then and took Oswald’s wrist, guiding his hand. Frowning, he placed it gently on his own throat. He swallowed, fearful.

“Go ahead,” Ed whispered hoarsely, “Take your revenge.”

Oswalds eyes widened. His hand shook, fingers finding their place on Ed’s skin, slowly tightening. The anger he still held within him resurfaced. With a grunt Oswald gripped Ed’s neck with both hands, pressed his forehead against the bars, straining against them. Ed closed his eyes, lips parted slightly as he waited, small choking sounds rising from his throat. But it lasted only an instant before Oswald pulled his hands away. Ed opened his eyes to see Oswald examining his hands, panic splashed across his features. He stumbled to his feet and turned away, busying himself with slipping the rest of his jumpsuit back on. Oswald zipped it up to his neck, flipping up the collar to cover as much skin as possible.

“I pour myself over you, but you stay dry,” Ed said softly, “I am in your eyes, but by the time you see me, it’s too late. What am I?”

“This is not the time for riddles, Ed,” Oswald replied, a glance over his shoulder all he could manage. There was silence, and Oswald knew he had disappointed, just like the first time they met. He was naive to think they were meant to be. And he still hated riddles.

“Regret,” Ed finally spoke, the quiet word somehow filling their cages.

Oswald turned towards Ed once more. Limping forward, he walked up to the where their cages met as close as he was when the court first threw him in here. He looked through the bars, down at the floor on the other side, absently caressing the cold metal.

“We all have our regrets,” Oswald admitted bitterly.

Ed reached through the bars, taking Os by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“I kept thinking to myself, how am I supposed to forgive him for taking away Isabella? My second chance, my…one true love.”

“I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, Ed, but there was something wrong with that girl,” Oswald said, “She looked exactly like your Miss Kringle. I may have acted selfishly, but I strongly believe I was also protecting you.”

“No, I wasn’t in love with her,” Ed struggled, tapping his temple,“I…I saw you when I was alone. You weren’t really there. You were like…a memory. But you spoke to me with my own thoughts…You sang to me.”

Oswald blinked rapidly, tearing his chin from Ed’s grip.

“You hallucinated me? Singing to you?” Oswald was incredulous.

“Isabella’s allure had more to do with my memory of Miss Kringle than Isabella herself,” Ed replied quickly, emphasizing the words with frantic hand motions as if he was excited by this conclusion.

“What are you saying, Ed?” asked Oswald.

Ed gripped the bars, his curling hair and eager grin reminding Oswald of all the times he visited Ed while he was in Arkham. When did he start loving Ed? He realized how deep his feelings ran that night on the couch after the man saved his life yet again. But even before…in Ed’s apartment…he had felt deep admiration at the very least…

“Oswald,” Ed was talking again. Oswald blinked, realizing he was trying to answer the question.

Ed looked down at Oswald a long while, wondering when he had started falling for him. It had all started at his apartment when he nursed his friend back to health. Ed always admired the man deeply, but there wasn’t a real passion until they were working together for the same cause. Oswald running Gotham with Ed by his side was a dream come true…for the short time it lasted. The way Oswald cared for Ed after he saved his life…that night on the couch when he told him he’d do anything… He really had meant it. Now Ed was realizing he had hoped for something more when Oswald leaned in for that hug.

Ed cleared his throat, “Oswald, come closer.”

Oswald looked ready to back away at the strange request, but he shuffled over anyways. Mirroring Ed, he wrapped his hands around the bars of his cage, leaning in close.

“Am I standing too close?” Ed asked, his grin widening.

Oswald smirked, bowing his head at the memory, “Not this time, old friend.”

Ed had him by the chin again, lifting his face towards his own.

“What I’m trying to say,” Ed struggled with the words, “What I’ve been trying to admit to myself all this time, is that…I love you, Oswald.”

Oswald chewed his lip, this couldn’t be real. This had to be another trick, another riddle. The memories of the mental torture Ed put him through flooded his mind. Those were not the actions of a man in love. But neither was killing your best friend’s girlfriend Oswald assumed.

Ed was gently drawing him closer, trying to read his expression. Wearily, Oswald let him, desiring only that the past would finally let them rest either in the ground or in each other’s arms.

“Did you hear me Oswald?” Ed was asking, “I-I love you.”

“We have a lot to figure out between the two of us,” said Oswald, finally, “We have both been brutal to each other. I don’t know if any of it is forgivable.”

“Forgiveness is a difficult thing,” Ed admitted, thoughtful, “But we have a lifetime to be better for each other, to forgive and start over. All I know is that one cannot deny love.”

And he kissed Oswald through the bars. Maybe he should have let the anger take over, push him away and begin plotting his own way out of the cage. But his heart swelled when their lips met. Edward Nygma was all he ever wanted. He had never wanted something so badly in his life. Oswald grabbed the collar of Ed’s jumpsuit, keeping him there as long as he could.

Ed pulled back, the kiss, sloppy and desperate, lingering on his tingling lips. His heart pounded in his chest, wanting more. He knew they had a long way to go, but this was their chance to start over. A chance they both desperately longed for, to finally have it was overwhelming.

“Ed,” Oswald was smiling at last, a sudden determination changing his posture. He tossed his short hair from his forehead, rolled back his shoulders. Reaching through the bars, he took Ed’s hand in his own, their finger intertwining, “Let’s get the hell out of this bird cage.”


End file.
